


Cherish the Sins We Commit

by au_rose (au_miel)



Series: Irresponsible and Careless Decisions with Tord and Edd; or, Playing With Fire [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Bloodplay, Claiming Bites, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Painplay, Post-Canon, Riding, Sorry Not Sorry, Trans Male Character, it's trans tord!!!! fuck i love him and his bussy, napoleonic is an insult right?, this was a gift but i had so much fun i cant stop now haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-23 23:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14343123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/au_miel/pseuds/au_rose
Summary: Edd yanks himself away suddenly. “Jesus,” he asks, hoarse and lisping, “did you bite my tongue?”“Maybe,” Tord wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, then admires it. After a final drag along Edd’s thigh, he pushes off and starts walking. He waves two fingers in the air, as if to say ‘follow.’ They both know Edd doesn’t need to be told.Years after The End, Edd and Tord find themselves reunited as leaders of opposing armies, and relieve the tension in the most self destructive way possible.





	Cherish the Sins We Commit

**Author's Note:**

> this was a gift fr my partner in crime!!! theres just not enough tordedd in this world and ESP not enough smut...so........enjoy my filth lol

An endless row of street lamps lay spread out before him. At night, everywhere in town looks exactly the same, but Edd’s route is essentially muscle memory. Six months have passed since the Green Resistance first gained traction in its effort to subdue the Red Army, but it’s only been six hours since their first tangible victory. Edd smiles at his feet as he walks. It was nearly a draw, but quick maneuvering and a bit of luck ultimately changed everything.

A grin tugs at his lips.  _ Tord is gonna be so pissed. _

It certainly isn’t moralistic, and by no means is Edd ever proud, but ever since he and Tord evolved from former friends into mortal enemies with politics, human lives, and the future itself at stake, they can’t seem to keep away from each other. The Red and Green leaders first met under the pretense of official business, but diplomatic meetings can be derailed. Once in sight, all diplomacy is forgotten in favour of...

    His thoughts are silenced by the ice of a blade on his throat. Once the shock wears off he almost rolls his eyes. “Nice to see you, General.”

“Likewise.” A grin is plainly heard in Tord’s voice. 

For a moment, nothing moves. Then Edd is yanking Tord’s arm forwards, but too slow to throw him off balance as he’d planned. Boots scuffing, the knife clatters harsh against the pavement, a hitch of breath. Edd finds his back to a wall and his arm pinned above his head, cold brickwork bleeding through his coat. Leaning in with the likeness of a fox admiring its kill, Tord catches Edd’s ear between his teeth.

“Good work today,” he says, words dripping with acid. “But that only means I’ll have to hit back twice as hard.”

Edd laughs. “Pretty sure I’ll be the one hitting it tonight.”

“Keep it up and I’ll blue ball you so hard you can’t sit for a week.”

“...yes, sir.”

Tord smirks and releases his arm, stepping back. “At ease.” 

    Edd relaxes. The moment he’s open Tord thrusts him back against the wall with a metallic grip wrapping his throat.

    “Just kidding!”

    They snap at each other’s lips as soon as they’re within reach. Edd yanks him close by his coat and nudges his thighs apart with a knee. Without hesitation, Tord grinds down on him. Neither can tell who bleeds first, but it dribbles down both their chins all the same.

    Edd yanks himself away suddenly. “Jesus,” he asks, hoarse and lisping, “did you bite my tongue?”

    “Maybe,” Tord wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, then admires it. After a final drag along Edd’s thigh, he pushes off and starts walking. He waves two fingers in the air, as if to say ‘follow.’ They both know Edd doesn’t need to be told.

    In an alley streetlights can’t reach, Tord’s flat is tucked away beyond a set of dingy concrete stairs. Unlocking the door becomes a near impossible task because Edd refuses to stop running his palm along Tord’s inner thigh. Once his eyes adjust to the darkness inside, he silently wishes it was safe to take their…  _ engagements _ to a motel. This one-room hell hole looks less like a living space and more like an arsenal. The only surface free of guns, knives, and instruments of torture is the unmade bed crammed into the corner, much too large for the room, and Edd is sure that’s only because Tord learned the hard way not to sleep with them. 

    He is equally sure of how absolutely vulnerable he is. They both are. One decisive move at the right time would end their war instantly. The situation reeked of possibilities, of opportunity, but instead--

    Tord catches Edd’s chin in his hand. “I see you haven’t kicked that dreadful habit yet.” He strokes his stubble. “Pay attention when I talk to you.”

    Scoffing, Edd rolls his eyes and snags his mouth in a hard kiss. Tord purrs and flicks open the buttons on Edd’s coat.

    But instead, they do this.

    They trip over their toed-off boots and coats shrugged to the floor on their way to the bed, unwilling to stop kissing. It feels like a competition, and whoever comes up for air first will be the ever humiliated loser. Edd accepts defeat when Tord drags nails down his neck hard enough to break the skin.

    Edd scoffs. “You’re getting sloppy, General. Your formation today was the worst I’ve ever seen. No wonder y-- ow, fuck, hey!” He draws in a heavy breath as Tord licks the blood he’s drawn from Edd’s collarbone. His hoodie and shirt are stretched down impossibly far, probably threatening to rip. “You’ll wear out the collar like that. Just take it off, fuckhead.” He lifts his arms to facilitate the gesture.

    Tord runs both hands across the newly exposed skin like he’s choosing a target, and Edd suppresses a shiver of both cold and anticipation. “Anyway, as I was saying, your tactics are Napoleonic at best, and-- Christ…” 

    Sucking a trickle of blood from the fresh wound on Edd’s chest, Tord looks up at him with the devil in his eyes. “Hm? What was that?”

    “And, ah,” Teeth drag across his nipple. “Everyone k-knows--” Sharp nails dig into his sides. “Everyone knows what happened to, to him, to Napoleon, so fuck,” Fangs pierce the soft flesh of his belly. Tord laps up the blood before it has a chance to run. “God fucking dammit!”

    Tord laughs and pats him twice just below the navel, both placating and condescending. Edd covers his face with both hands. He can’t dare to meet Tord’s eyes as he undoes his belt with his teeth, the talented fucker, moving with just enough deliberation to go achingly slow. 

    “Someone is eager,” Tord purrs, rubbing two fingers along his cock.

    “Hey,” Remembering himself, Edd drops his hands. “Don’t linger down there unless you’re gonna suck me off.”

    Tord palms him up and down, presses his thumb to the slit, nuzzles his balls… It becomes a battle of focusing on enjoying the attention and not enjoying it so much that he makes another embarrassing noise. Pressure builds at the base of his spine. He knots his hands in the sheets. Tord picks up speed. Edd bites his lip, fighting the urge to arch his back, and Tord sinks his teeth into Edd’s thigh.

    Jolting to attention, the scream catches in his throat, but not before Tord hears and practically moans in response. He’s absorbed in pressing kisses to the oval of incisions he’s made when Edd grabs a fistful of messy hair and drags him up to his level. Their lips collide almost painfully. 

    “I hate you so fucking much,” Edd pants as he rubs Tord’s waist, “and I hate that I’m the only one undressed right now.”

    Tord settles into his lap, grinning with the menace of someone who cherishes the sin he’s committing. Edd begins to cherish it too when Tord’s hoodie is discarded onto the floor, freeing the scarred biceps he’s come to love. The T-Shirt comes off much slower once he notices Edd’s ogling. Never has the drag of cotton over pale flesh been so simultaneously agonising and mesmerizing. 

    “Like what you see?”

    All his injuries sting at his core, some might even be bleeding again, and the texture of Tord’s trousers on his cock is absolutely unforgiving. No matter how witty he imagines himself to be, his only response is “yeah.”

    Tord shrugs out of the grasp on his hips to remove his slacks. Before disrobing completely himself, Edd fishes for the condom he keeps in his wallet. He’s still thumbing through folds of fake identification when he glances up to see Tord, naked and dripping down his thighs, settling back into his lap.

    “Hey, hey, hold on,” Edd says, but Tord just drags his slit along Edd’s cock and moans low in his throat. Despite his focus wavering dangerously between his task and the nub of Tord’s clit sliding over him, he ultimately prevails. Tord whines when Edd pushes him off to prepare himself, revisiting old bitemarks where the blood congealed as retaliation. 

    Edd toes his slacks all the way off and rolls the condom on. He can’t resist stroking himself a few times in anticipation as he stares at Tord’s thighs, which are already straddling him again. Usually Tord makes him beg to fuck him, rutting against him in a way that negates refusal. Usually Edd resists debasing himself so thoroughly for at least forty seconds. Those moments are some of the longest of his life.

    This time Tord merely grips him by the shoulder and raises his eyebrows. Edd nods, almost chuckling under his breath. Not even their silent communication was dulled by their time apart, nor their time as enemies. And when Tord slides down onto him, slowly, patiently, and meets his eyes, though half hidden beneath heavy lashes… it’s intimate, hot in a way that isn’t tinged with pain and fear. It’s almost sweet. 

    Tord traces the back of his hand along Edd’s cheek, the softest gesture of the night. Then he wraps it around his throat. “Don’t think I fucking forgot what you did.” 

    Edd swallows beneath the thumb on his larynx. 

    “You might win out there,” he rolls his hips with languid ease, an impossible mosaic of swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and the cold eyes of a man who has seen too much. “Yes, it might be a public victory, but  _ fuck, Edd _ , every night you come back to me. Back to whom you belong to.” He moans a flurry of nonsense words, then gets right back into it. “Come, say it with me, now.”

    He coughs deep in his chest, voice straining to choke out the words dragged from him so many times before. “I belong to you.”

    “Try again.”

    “I belong to you…” he bunches his fists in the sheets, “sir.”

    “Good, good. Much better, very good!” Tord digs his teeth into his bottom lip, hurrying himself to a pace that sends him screaming.  “Fuck, God...! Yes!”

    Lightheaded, Edd grabs him by the hips as if that will help him regain the control that’s spiraled so far beyond his reach, but Tord is too fast. His hands find better purchase on his ass, so he sinks his nails in and slaps it once just to relish in the noise. 

    Tord buries his chin in the hollow of Edd’s neck for balance as he bounces in his lap. Though off on his timing, Edd thrusts up to meet him, and is rewarded for his eagerness by a bite on his shoulder. This time Tord doesn’t let go. He moans around the mouthful, and just as Edd feels blood trickling down his arm, Tord goes completely rigid. A moment later he’s shuddering from his core, rocking in a frenzy, and panting hot breath onto Edd’s stinging wound. 

    “Ah, fuck!” he cries as he rides through to finish. “Edd... _ Edd! _ ”

    If anyone asked, he would deny that he found it to be the most beautiful sound in the world, a sound that always pushes him over the edge. Edd pulls Tord into a tight embrace. His vision goes dark, stars swim through his ears, and Edd decides he always wants to cum and pass out at the same time.

    When he opens his eyes, Tord is curled at his side, lapping at his bloodied shoulder.

    “Welcome back, asshole.”

    “Yeah,” he sighs with an emotion he can’t place, “hi.”

    Tord pauses a moment, searching his face with all the intensity of a gorged honeybee on an August afternoon. “Are you okay?”

    Edd scratches his chest, flinches as he grazes one of the million injuries he’s accumulated. “You really fucked me up this time. My shoulder hurts.”

    A shrug. “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

    “You sure you don’t use a whetstone to keep your teeth sharp?”

    Tord begins his ritual of kissing away all the damage he’s caused, laughing under his breath as he takes Edd’s hand in his. “I have my ways.”


End file.
